


black sun

by swarmsoflizards



Category: Assassin's Curse series- Cassandra Rose Clarke, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Pirates, Assassin's Curse AU, Blood Magic, Curses, M/M, Magic, its probably better that way because you wont know when i screw up the world, mild violence, the Winchesters are pirates, this is the first thing ive ever written with some semblance of a real plot, you dont have to be familiar with the books to follow the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swarmsoflizards/pseuds/swarmsoflizards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean Winchester, exiled pirate, finds himself attached at the hip to an assassin, running for his life, and confused more than anything else, really.</p><p>A story about magic, curses, and finding what you want even when you don't know what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I recently reread the Assassin's Curse series, learned that it's going out of print, and decided to write an SPN au. It's pretty dumb but I'm okay with it.
> 
> For those unfamiliar, the series is high fantasy and deals with magic, curses, pirates, assassins, lesbians, and the like. You should totally read it. You don't need to know anything about it to read the fic! I just took the characters from SPN and plopped them into the plot and world of Assassin's Curse.
> 
> If anything is unclear and you think it's because of the world or its mechanics rather than my terrible writing, please let me know!!

_There is whiskey in the water_

_And there is death upon the vine_

_There is fear in the eyes of your father_

_And there is yours and there is mine_

-Death Cab for Cutie, [_Black Sun_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTbVIfqeDq0)

\- - -

Dean has never hated the sight of the Lisirran coast more than he does in this moment.  

With the city on the horizon and the sun setting the desert to sparkling it should be beautiful, but all Dean can see is the end of the road. The ship he's spent his entire life on will be sailing away momentarily, never to be seen again.

He understands why his father is doing it, of course. Can't have someone in as deep shit as he is on board, it endangers the whole crew. Not like he was ever that much use anyway. He's no real loss.

A big hand claps down on his shoulder, disrupting his musings. "You understand, right kid?" asks his father gruffly. "Wouldn't do this if I didn't have to."

Dean swallows the lump in his throat. "Yeah."

"Good." John drops a small bag into his hand. "That should last you a while. Don't be stupid, kid."

The hand leaves his shoulder, and he turns to watch his father retreat and climb back into the rowboat. The _Impala_ floats behind it, just out of reach. Like she's mocking him.

He looks away before he can see his father disappear without a backward glance.

The bag his father left him has enough pressed copper in it to buy him a week of cheap meals and two or three nights in a room in the pleasure district. He needs a plan. Before that, though, he needs to reach the actual city before the sun sets. If he's in trouble now, it'll be ten times worse when he can't see to defend himself.

He starts walking, focusing just on each step. He can't let himself panic. He'll be fine; all he needs to do is get to the city, get some cash, and avoid being murdered for the rest of his life. Shouldn't be too hard.

The sun is hanging low in the sky when he sets foot into the city, the desert finally giving way to people hustling around him and dry coastal plants on street corners. He's been here before, but never alone. The last time was years ago, when Sammy was still with them. They ran around the night market, dodging between stalls and nicking food from vendors.

Dean shakes the memory out of his head.

He winds his way through the twisting roads until he finds his way to the pleasure district. It's the same as it always is, barely clothed women swaying their hips and men hustling through with their heads down. He finds the motel his family always stayed at, already knowing it's the cheapest in the city. He pulls on his hood and walks through the doors.

The hunched over old man behind the counter barely says a word to him, just hands over a key and takes his money. Dean walks down the shadowy hallway to his room. He doesn't realize just how tired he is until he sees the lumpy mattress waiting there for him, and collapses on it before he can worry about any dubious stains on the blanket.

\- - -

Dean wakes up to the hot Lisirran sun shining in his eyes, reminding him too readily of his problems. He needs to come up with a plan, fast. He can’t stay here long.

He gets up to close the curtains but stops, looking out the window. Among the bustle of the district there’s a figure standing perfectly still. Clad in a black robe, they’re in the middle of the path. Pedestrians flow around the figure as if they don’t notice the disturbance.

Dean tugs the curtains shut.

He quickly gathers up his remaining copper pieces and leaves the room. By the time he makes it to the road outside, the hooded figure is gone. The thought that it could have been an assassin comes to Dean’s mind, but he figures that if it was they’d have killed him already. It probably doesn’t even have anything to do with him.

He wanders to the day market and buys his breakfast and some fresh water, not wanting to steal anything that he can get on the up and up. Dad always said it’s better to do things legit if you can. Don't want to get caught for something stupid. He tries and fails to put the hooded figure out of his mind.

If it had been an assassin, that would've been it. Dead. Everything a waste. He needs to find a way to hide. He and every other Federation kid grew up hearing stories about them- how they were no longer human, how they could track their targets to the end of the world and back. How they used blood magic and left no survivors. (Dean always wondered where the stories came from if there were no survivors, but the point remained.)

But of course those were just children's stories, right? The assassins might be real, but they're still just people. People using old, old magic, but still just people.

People can be evaded. Even old magic can be evaded.

Dean finds himself in an open garden, giving a brief thought as to how it's watered before sitting beneath a tree. He scrubs his face with his hands, trying to clear his thoughts.

The hooded figure is there when he looks up.

Dean lets out a yelp, and then scrambles to his feet and unsheathes his knife. "Who are you and what do you want?" He says, surprising himself with how little his voice shakes.

"Calm down, kid, you'll hurt yourself," the figure says, and pushes back its hood. It's a woman not much older than himself that stands there. Her hair is dark and her eyes are black. "My name's Ruby, I'm a friend of Sam's."

"Sam?" Dean repeats dumbly. "Why are you here, then?"

"Little Sammy thought you were in trouble, so he asked me to check in on you. And may I say, _holy shit_ it is a deep hole you've dug yourself into."

"Gee, thanks, I hadn't noticed. Why does Sam care? We haven't spoken in years."

"Well, astoundingly, he still cares about his idiot brother after all this time. Congratulations," she says, looking bored out of her mind. "Unfortunately, he also asked me to help you if I could. I don't particularly care what happens to you, but he'll be sad if I let you die."

"Thanks for the encouragement, but I have a few questions first."

"Shoot."

"How do I know you're really a friend of Sam's?"

Ruby sighs and reaches behind her neck, pulling off a necklace. "He told me this was yours," she says, and hands it to him. "Said it'd be enough to convince you to accept my help."

Dean takes it and cups the charm in the palm of his hand. Swallows hard. "Yeah, it is."

"Great. What else do you need?"

Tying the amulet around his neck, he says, "How do you even know Sam? I still don't know who you are."

"I told you, I'm Ruby. Me and Sam met at the university in Arkuz. He trusts me enough to keep you alive, which should tell you enough."

"How did you find me?"

"Magic."

"That's helpful. What _kind_ of magic?"

"A tracking spell."

"Fine. Thanks for all the help, Ruby, but if you can't even tell me anything then I guess I'll be on my way." He brushes past her and heads for the gates.

"Wait!" She yells after him. "I used a blood spell, alright? Me and Sam used a blood spell to find you."

"Holy shit, you _what?_ Where'd you get my blood?"

"We didn't, dingus, we used his. Since you and John are the only other Winchesters currently in existence, we just used a spell that would tell us where his family was. Considering you were a week away from Lisirra, I figured I'd intercept you before you got yourself killed."

Dean can't get over the blood magic part. His stupid kid brother is friends with a _blood witch._ The idiot, what's he been doing for the last four years? He can yell at him later, probably. He has to survive first. "How can you help me, then?"

"The amulet, first thing. It's a powerful earth protection charm. I don't know where you two picked it up, but there it is. Second, I have connections here. If you'll come with me, I'll help you."

There's no way this will end well.

"Fine."

\- - -

Dean follows Ruby through the twisting roads of the city into a district he's never seen before. Booths and shacks line the square, merchants yelling out promises of this herb and that gem that can't possibly be true. The sun is bright in the mid-afternoon sky, beating down on the city. Dean's glad he has a scarf to wrap around his head. Ruby, apparently immune to heat, does no such thing and continues to strut purposefully in her black cloak toward some unknown location.

When she stops suddenly, Dean almost runs into her. Before he can comment she says, "We're here."

They stand in front of a glorified shack, a structure that looks as if it would crumble if the wind hit it right. Jewel-toned curtains hang from the entrance in lieu of a door, with dim candlelight spilling underneath. It smells like the humid air of the jungle.

Ruby parts the curtains and enters without knocking or announcing herself, and Dean follows. He feels it the moment he passes through the ward on the entrance. The air is heavy with both humidity and smoke, and Dean spots incense burning on a side table. Piles of gems and rocks and dried plants are strewn about haphazardly on every available surface. He notices all of these things before the woman seated at the low table in the center of the room.

The woman is kneeling, her blonde hair cascading like water down her shoulders. She wears white from head to toe. When she opens her eyes, they are a shining, bright, otherworldly blue.

"Lilith," Ruby says, and Dean realizes it's the woman's name. "I'm here to call in that favor."

She turns and looks straight at Dean. Her gaze makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"Dean," she says. Her voice sounds like a trickling brook. "I had a feeling you would end up here."

He shifts his weight back and forth. "No kidding."

"It's a good thing you came when you did. If you had waited until tomorrow, you'd be dead."

Shivers run down his spine. He can't think of a witty retort.

Lilith smiles, all teeth, and laughs. It sounds like little bells, or maybe tinkling jewelry. "What a waste all my hard work would have been then!"

Dean smiles a very stiff smile.

Lilith stands and walks over to a table covered with plants and retrieves several small vials. "Each of these will open a door." She places one in his hand and gestures at an empty stretch of wall. "Throw it."

He throws it.

A blinding flash of light, a horrid screeching inside his head, and then silence.

"That will take care of your assassin."

So they are after him. "Where does it go?" he asks when he can gather the words.

"Does it matter?"

No, Dean supposes, it does not.

"Thanks, Lilith. We're even," says Ruby. Dean had forgotten she was there; she hadn't spoken since they walked in, simply observing his and Lilith's interactions.

"Consider it a gift, no charge. I'll still owe you a favor."

"Whatever you say," Ruby says, and grabs Dean's hand. She drags him out without another word.

Ruby mutters something about _stupid Sam_ and _fucking Lilith_ under her breath as they go, not stopping until they hit the edge of the district. "I fucking hate working with her, you never know what you're gonna get. But you tested it, yeah? Good to go?"

"I guess. What'll you do?"

"I'll go back to tell Sam I did what I could. The rest is on you, kid. Come visit if you survive, Sam misses you."

With that, she turns and walks away.

Dean's life is getting very strange, he thinks before he starts the trek back to his hotel. He should probably get used to it.

\- - -

By the time the sun sets, Dean has a plan.

He will wander around town, make a ruckus if he can. Make himself known. Eventually he will steal away to the desert, and the assassin will follow him. When he’s attacked, he’ll throw Lilith’s potion and make his getaway while the assassin gets sucked into the “door”.

As plans go, it’s a shitty one that will probably get him killed. But it’s something.

\- - -

Dean wakes at dawn the next morning.

The thought crosses his mind that it may be the last morning of his life, but he dismisses it as depressing. Instead of ruminating on his imminent mortality he quickly dresses and leaves the hotel.

He then realizes that he has no way of actually knowing if the assassin will be tracking him. Lilith said it would be too late if he had come today; He’s just going to have to assume he's being followed. It’s a plan that wouldn’t be good enough in literally any other situation, but he doesn’t exactly have much room for changing it.

Dean wanders the city, stopping a few times to buy snacks from vendors. He really doesn't know what to do to set his plan into motion. Fortunately, he doesn't have to.

He feels it the moment the assassin's eyes are on him. There’s no noticeable change in his environment, but it’s like something clicks into place. He just knows that the assassin is on his heels.

Heart pounding out of his chest, Dean changes his direction towards the edge of the city. He tries and fails not to think of what will happen if his plan doesn’t work (what if the assassin strikes before he’s ready and he doesn’t have time to throw the potion? What if the potion doesn’t work for some reason?), and balls his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. He can feel the sweat rolling down his back by the time the city starts to thin, less people milling about in the heat.

The feeling vanishes.

 _Fuck_. Did he do something wrong? Did he let the assassin know he felt them? Did something-

Maybe something interfered with the assassin. Oh, gods, what if they’re dead? What if he’s in the clear?

 _Pop_.

There is a figure standing behind him.

All of Dean’s hope melts away. He takes a deep breath and tries to prepare for death, to brace himself for the end, before turning around.

If it is possible to be completely and entirely underwhelmed by a figure one knows to represent inescapable death, this is what Dean experiences.

The figure he now faces is several inches shorter than him, for one, and has a rather terrible bedhead. His hood is down, revealing a face not much older than his own, looking quite uncomfortable at that. His cloak is a horrid tan color that couldn’t be more bland if it were literally made of dirt.

They make eye contact for a beat, still several feet away. Dean is simply shocked, and the assassin is… evaluating him? Staring at him for some reason or another.

Dean quickly shakes off his first impression and fumbles in his bag for the potion. As he grasps hold of it, the assassin raises his sword- a short, straight blade- and points it toward Dean's throat.

"This will be much easier for you if you give up now," the assassin says in a startlingly deep voice, sounding almost bored. Resigned.

"Like hell!" spits Dean, and chucks the potion straight at the assassin's head.

He ducks.

The bottle shatters on the ground into a thousand pieces and... does nothing. The assassin gives Dean a look, while Dean stares in shock. "That BITCH!" he yells when he can gather his voice. "She fucking set me up!"

The assassin appears to be concerned about Dean's sanity at this point. "I'm sorry?"

"That lying blood witch set me up with a fake spell!"

"Oh. Well, I'm very sorry about that, but I'm still going to have to kill you."

That snaps Dean out of it. He grabs his knife from its sheath and holds it out in front of him like a lifeline.

“If it’s any consolation, it’s not personal,” the assassin just keeps going, running through the speech he probably gives all his targets for some reason. Dean’s not really sure how to react. The guy still doesn’t really look like he’s gonna attack with much gusto.

He sees something twitch in the shadow of the assassin. Before rational thought can tell him not to, he hurls his knife at it.

It strikes home, pinning the scorpion to the ground. It twitches a little before it goes still.

The assassin's eyes suddenly go wide and surprised as he notices the scorpion, looking almost scared. "That was going to kill me."

Dean quickly runs through a mental list of all the curses he knows as he realizes what he just did. That scorpion would have taken out the fucking guy! He could have escaped with his life, and he threw it away on instinct. _Fucking idiot!_ Dean keeps mentally kicking himself as the assassin continues to stare at the dead scorpion.

"That was going to kill me," he repeats, as if to cement the idea in his head. "You just saved my life."

 _That seems like a bit of a stretch._ "Don't mention it. How about you don't murder me and we call it even?" Dean says, trying to at least put off the inevitable at this point.

"I suppose that's the only real course of action now," the assassin replies, almost to himself. He looks about as remorseful as Dean.

"What? Care to explain yourself?"

"I sort of... got cursed a while back."

"And?" Holy gods, Dean just does not know when to stop pushing his luck.

" _And,_ I was cursed to protect anyone who saves my life. That's you."

"Thanks for the clarification. What the hell does it _mean?"_

"It means I have to stick around and protect you!"

"Fuck. That's it, I'm out. Thanks for not disemboweling me and all, but I sort of have to be on my way."

"I don't think you understand. I _have_ to protect you. If you die, I'll die too."

"No offense or anything, but why should I care?"

"Because no matter what you say or do, I'm going to follow you, and it will be much easier for you to cooperate. The faster you agree, the faster we can break the curse and you can be rid of me."

Fuck, he's gonna regret this. "Fine."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said that I'd finish NSBTW before anything else? That didn't really work out. Enjoy~

_There is a desert veiled in pavement_

_And there is a city of seven hills_

_And all our debris flows to the ocean_

_To meet again, I hope it will_

-Death Cab for Cutie, [_Black Sun_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTbVIfqeDq0)

\- - -

When Dean wakes up there is a brief, glorious moment where he cannot remember where he is or why he’s there. Then a shadow passes over his face, and it all comes rushing back. He stifles a groan.

“Are you awake?” the assassin asks in his stupid deep voice.

“No,” Dean replies, voice muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into.

“Good. You said last night you knew of someone who could help?”

"I know someone who _might_ help, but I don't know where he is or how to find him," Dean says, looking up. "My brother. He was gonna study all that old-timey magic crap at University."

"If he's your brother, I can find him."

"Using crazy dangerous blood magic?"

"You would see it like that, yes."

Dean huffs. "Great."

"It's not actually terribly dangerous. I'll need some ingredients from the market, and I'll need some time, but the spell itself is rather straightforward. It would only be dangerous to an amateur."

Dean tunes him out. He wonders how Sam will react when they see each other again, or when he learns of their, um, _situation_. He'll probably call Dean an idiot before doing everything in his power to help him.

"-So?" the assassin asks, and Dean realizes he just asked a question.

"What?"

"Do you have anything of his that I can use to track him? Something close to him?"

"Um..." He reaches around his neck and pulls off the amulet. "Will this work?"

The assassin takes it in his hand and examines it. "This is very powerful magic," he says, surprised.

"Yeah, so I've been told."

"It looks old. Where did your brother acquire it?"

"Don't know. Probably bought it for cheap from some vendor, he gave it to me for my birthday one year."

"But you believe it's close enough to him that I'll be able to track him through it?"

"Well, he's had it for the last few years, since I last saw him. I'm assuming he wore it."

The assassin screws up his mouth. "It'll do, I suppose." It's then that Dean realizes that he doesn't even know the assassin's name. Assuming they have names, he means. Hell, he wasn't even sure the assassins were real until a few days ago, who even knows if they have names?

"You have a name?" he asks, apparently complacent with rocking the boat now that it's cursed not to tip over.

"It's Castiel."

"Great."

\- - -

Castiel, apparently, has far too much to do and not enough time to do it, so he sends Dean out to the day market with some coins and a list of ingredients for the spell. He tries to follow the path he took with Ruby to the weird magical market that he'd never been to before, but can't find it anywhere. He wonders whether it's because he's not a magic user and it’s glamoured or if he's just an idiot who can't remember directions.

He doesn't have any trouble with most of the ingredients, with the exceptions of some weird ass plants that he pays ridiculous amounts of money for.

When he returns to the hotel room, Castiel is sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, revealing twisting, twining tattoos glowing a bright light blue. His open eyes are the same color.

Dean, preferring not to know the details, flops down on the bed with all the crap he bought, deciding to take a nap until Castiel is done with this magic thing.

Just a few minutes later Castiel comes out of whatever weird trance he was in and stands back up. "Did you get the things I asked for?"

“Yeah, even the weird shit that the vendors gave me looks for buying.”

“Excellent,” Castiel says, walking over to sift through the pile on the bed.

After a few moments of silence, Dean bites the bullet and asks, “So, what was all that?”

“All what?” Castiel seems confused, but as he has the range in facial expressions of a statue, it’s hard to tell.

“The…” he gestures to the corner. “The glowing trance thing.”

"I was contacting the Order. They’re not pleased with our current situation.”

“Great. Who's the Order?"

"The people that I work for."

Oh. That makes sense. Of course assassins don't just work freelance or something. Dean doesn't know why he's never thought of it before. "What're they gonna do about it?"

"They'll either let me take care of the situation or they'll send someone to dispatch us."

"Wait. You're saying they might send someone to fucking kill us? _Why?_ " Dean practically shouts.

"It's not safe for them to have one of us not working under direct orders," Castiel replies, in a tone anyone else would use to point out the nice weather. "I could go rogue, or I could work to undermine the Order. I've already directly disobeyed orders by failing to kill you, and that's the only chance most of us ever get. Because of our 'unique circumstances' they might allow us to live for the time being."

Dean scrubs his face with his hands. "Spectacular," he mutters.

Castiel lets out a sigh. "Truly."

A beat of silence.

"I gather that blood magic makes you uncomfortable?" Dean hesitates, then nods. "Then you may want to leave for a few hours while I perform the spell."

"Alright," Dean concedes, without a fight. He'd prefer not to see Castiel slice his arms open for a damn tracking spell.

\- - -

After a few hours of wandering and a few incidents of buying food with Castiel's money, Dean finds his way back to the hotel. The stairs creak as he walks up them, probably waking up the entire floor.

Castiel appears to be waiting for him when he comes in, just sitting there on the bed staring at nothing. When he sees Dean, he stands up. "Your brother is in Arkuz."

That stops Dean in his tracks. "What? Why?"

"You did say he was an academic, didn't you?"

"I said he went to the university. I didn't think he'd still be hanging out there."

"Well, he is."

"Clearly. Gods, we don't have fucking _time_ to sail to Arkuz! Like, no offense buddy, but we need to get this shit sorted out as soon as possible."

"None taken, I would be inclined to agree. Unfortunately, it appears we have no other choice."

\- - -

The next morning Dean finds himself talking them onto a merchant vessel headed for Arkuz. He brags about growing up on a ship and having years upon years of experience as a sailor, while Castiel stands quietly behind him.

The captain eventually takes pity on them, it would seem, and promises to let them hitch a ride as long as they do their fair share of work. Dean spouts thanks like there's no tomorrow and Castiel even speaks up once.

"It's no trouble, so long as you two pull your weight," says the captain, who introduces himself as Benny. "Be careful of the crew, though. They're not too fond of outsiders."

True to Benny's word, the rest of the crew tends to avoid them, except for the occasional dirty look. Dean and Castiel try to avoid each other too, mostly out of awkwardness. Dean doesn't know how to act in this situation, and he's pretty sure Castiel isn't crazy about it either. On the few occasions they're forced into close quarters, Dean tries to ask about the curse.

"So, like, can you tell if I'm in danger?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"It causes me pain."

"What constitutes danger? Like, can you feel it when I'm in the rigging, even though I won't fall? Could you tell if I went to the edge and thought about jumping off, or if I got sick?"

"I don't _know_."

And so it goes for two weeks until they reach the great city of Arkuz.

The crew probably won't even notice they're gone, save for slightly more work they'll have to do. Benny waves them off, thanking them for their help and wishing them luck.

The moment they step onto the docks, Castiel announces, "Yes, your brother is definitely here."

Dean chooses not to question it.

"Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Are you serious? I haven't talked to him in years."

"He's still your brother. You know him better than I do."

"Then let's start at the university. At least they might know him there."

It's as good a start as any, so off they go.

Why anyone in their right mind would choose to build a city _here_ , of all places, completely escapes Dean. The air is thick and humid, far from the dry, salty air at sea, and beyond the city jungles are spread as far as the eye can see. The city is full of life, with green jungle plants growing everywhere and people filling the space between them.

By the time they reach the university's main building, Dean is sweating and just about ready to pass out. He's already sick to death of the heat and can't wait to get out of the goddamn jungle.

They walk up the carved stairs, their steps echoing through the square. Just as they reach the enormous front doors they swing open, a woman barreling through straight into Dean.

"Hey!" she starts, at the same time Dean yells " _Ruby?_ "

Ruby's eyes widen as she recognizes him, then smiles. "Dean! I see you're not dead." She glances at Castiel, who seems vaguely uncomfortable. "And you've made a friend!"

As soon as Dean gets over the shock, he barely restrains himself from punching her smug mouth. "You set me up!"

Her smile falters. "What?"

"With Lilith! The goddamn potion was a fake, it almost got me killed!"

She scrunches her eyes shut and tilts her head back, mouthing obscenities. When she looks back at him she says, "Dean, I'm sorry. I thought she might try to doublecross _me_ , but I thought you were home free. Conniving bitch," she adds, more to herself than anyone else.

"You're telling me you had nothing to do with it?"

"What reason would I have to hurt you?"

"I don't even know you! How should I know your motivations? You're a blood witch!"

"Yeah, and I did my best to save your ungrateful life!" she yells back, genuinely angry now. "Sam was agonizing over you, thinking you were dead or dying, and we did what we could, used everything at our disposal!"

She's certainly not done, but Castiel interrupts her. "Wait," he says, quietly, and she cuts off. He seems to have that power, Dean has noticed; he slides under the radar until he decides not to anymore, and then commands the room with a word.

"What?" demands Ruby.

"How did Sam know of Dean's trouble in the first place?"

Ruby blinks owlishly at him. Dean opens his mouth to reply, but he can’t think of anything to say. Eventually Ruby says, "I figured you found a way to contact him through magic. He said you're a half decent air witch, that your mom taught you."

That catches Dean off guard. "He did?" Their mom, before she died, had been very skilled at what she did, and taught as much as she could to Dean in the few years they had together. He never seemed to have a talent for it. "I didn't contact him at all. I figured it was some blood magic thing."

“It wasn’t me.”

An awkward silence presses over them, nobody seeming to know what to say next. Castiel, as usual, seems oblivious. After glancing between them for a little while he says, “Sam should have an answer for you.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll take you to him. Just… don’t freak out, okay?” She turns before Dean can say anything in reply, and he follows her back down the stairs. He doesn’t turn to check that Castiel’s behind him.

\- - -

Ruby leads them through the city, across stone bridges and through thin, pressing streets. The humidity only gets worse the closer they get to the edge of the forest, and fat black flies become more populous as the sun gets lower in the sky. When Ruby stops in front of a small stone building on the edge of the city, Dean is rather surprised. He and Sam had always been different, yes, but they’d shared a certain fondness for the desert. They’d spent enough time in Lisirra as children that they’d come to appreciate the dry air and wide open sky. It’s strange to think that Sam would choose a place like this for himself.

Ruby hesitates at the door before knocking a couple times, then opens it herself. “Sam?” she calls, sounding unsure.

“Yeah!” comes the reply from deeper in the house, and holy shit, this is happening. Dean hasn’t seen his brother in years, and now he’s standing on his front step in fucking Arkuz, and it’s just too surreal.

“You’ve got some company,” Ruby yells back into the house.

Sam comes around the corner. The first thing that strikes Dean is his how tall he is. They’d been about the same height when Sam left, and now he’s at least a head taller. The second thing is the way the expression drops off his face as soon as he sees Dean.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean says weakly, and raises his hand in an awkward wave.

Sam brushes past Ruby and pulls Dean into a hug.

After a beat, Dean wraps his arms around Sam, too.

When Sam releases him, he says, “Dean, I thought you were dead.”

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to worry you, buddy. I'm fine."

"Dean," Castiel adds impatiently.

"Well, uh, mostly fine. That's actually why we came here."

"What is it?"

"It's sort of a long story."

\- - -

"So let me get this straight," Sam says, rubbing his forehead. "You manage to get a price on your head, instead of helping you Dad sends you away, you accidentally save an assassin's life and get cursed for it, and you come to me for help?"

"Well, to be fair, I don't exactly have a lot of options here," Dean says, and Sam nods his assent.

“Well, I might be able to help some. What do you know about the curse? How did you even get cursed in the first place?” he turns to Castiel, and even after being apart for so long, Dean can recognize his _taking shit seriously_ face.

Castiel launches into a detailed account of being cursed originally by some old witch in the northern regions and Dean quickly loses interest. He takes a step back so he’s next to where Ruby sat down. “So, uh, I’m sorry I flipped out at you.”

Ruby looks up. “You don’t have to be, really. You thought I had tried to kill you, I would have done the same thing.”

“Uh, good.” Dean shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“You guys, I think I might actually have something,” Sam says. “I have this old book on northern magic, like the really old stuff, and that sort of curse seems like the kind of thing that would be in it.” He steps over to one of the large bookshelves in the room and squats down so he can look at the bottom shelves. After a moment he pulls out a very thick book bound in leather. “Um, this might take a while. Why don’t you guys sit down?”

Dean and Cas both take a seat on the couch opposite Ruby, backs awkwardly straight (Dean because he isn’t entirely comfortable here yet, and Cas because that’s just how he sits).

After a while Ruby moves to the table to help Sam search the book, but Dean and Cas just sit uncomfortably until Sam shouts, “Found it!”

Dean stifles a sound of disbelief and instead walks over to them, Cas immediately behind. “So get this,” Sam points to a few lines of very tiny text at the bottom of a page. “It talks about a bunch of common northern curses and their cures. Since we’re pretty sure this is really old magic, and we know it’s really powerful, it’s what’s known as an impossible curse.”

Dean groans. Cas squints his eyes shut in what’s probably frustration.

“Hey, stop that! It doesn’t mean it’s actually impossible, it just means it’s gonna be really hard to break. The cure probably has three steps, because pretty much all of these old curses do, and I might even know someone who can tell you what they are.”

“Wait, so you can’t?” Dean asks, desperation beginning to color his voice. “We came all the way out here for nothing?”

“Well, not nothing.” Sam looks a little offended. “And the witch I know who can help you is pretty close by.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Meg.”

“No.” Dean looks over to see that Cas’ jaw is set. “We can’t go to her. We have to find another way.”

“Do you, uh, know each other?”

“We’ve crossed paths before,” Cas says, his voice hard. “Enough that I know all she’ll do is send us heading in circles chasing our own tails. _There has to be someone else_.”

“No one that I know of,” Sam says, frustrated. “If you know any other local witches specializing in weird old curses, let me know.”

Cas’ mouth stays in a firm line, but he doesn’t object any more.

“Great, we’ll go see her in the morning,” Dean says, trying to break the tension. “Oh, uh, hey Sam? How did you know I was in trouble?”

“What?” He looks caught off-guard.

“Well, Ruby said it wasn’t her, and it wasn’t me, and I can’t imagine Dad would tell you, so…”

Sam shoots a look at Ruby, who then stands up. “C’mon, Cas, I’ll show you the guest bedroom.” Cas, for once, seems to pick up the hint and follows her out of the room.

“What is it?” Dean asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

Sam, looking extremely uncomfortable, looks anywhere but Dean’s face. “Well, you know that Ruby’s a blood witch, right?”

“Yeah, she’s not exactly subtle.”

A corner of Sam’s mouth twitches up. “No, she’s not. But, um, she’s sort of been teaching me. Blood magic, I mean.”

It takes Dean a minute to process. Then, “What.”

“I’m a blood witch.”

“How long?” Dean’s voice is stiff.

“It started manifesting years ago, just before I left. It’s one of the reasons, actually. I was worried I might be dangerous.”

“And you didn’t _tell me?_ ”

Sam flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“Sam, what the fuck! What does this mean about our family? Where the hell did it come from?” Dean feels twitchy, desperate to grab at some fragment of familiarity in the shambles of his life.

“I don’t know.” Sam seems weirdly calm about this; probably because he’s been dreading this conversation for years. “I have no idea where it came from, but it’s here and it’s getting stronger. That’s why I came here, to study it, and that’s why I could feel it when you got into trouble. I cast this charm, a while ago, to tell me if someone in my family were in danger, and that’s what told me,” he finishes, finally making eye contact with Dean. “I’m sorry I never told you, but I’m not sorry about leaving. I don’t know what could have happened if I hadn’t gotten the training I needed, and I’m glad I could help you now.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” Sam says quietly, and that’s that.


End file.
